


Champagne, Cocaine, Gasoline (And Most Things In Between)

by I May Age Regress (shnuffeluv)



Series: Gibbs' Family [70]
Category: NCIS
Genre: Alcohol, Arguing, Black-outs, Can you believe it?!, Conflict Resolution, Gen, Hangover, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, but we're at part 55!, no age play tonight folks, sorry - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-10
Updated: 2017-10-10
Packaged: 2019-01-15 12:47:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12321381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shnuffeluv/pseuds/I%20May%20Age%20Regress
Summary: When Ziva asks the team out for a couple of drinks, Gibbs decides to talk with McGee about why he shouldn't drink as much as he usually does. It goes about as well as he expected it might.





	Champagne, Cocaine, Gasoline (And Most Things In Between)

**Author's Note:**

> Y'all my eyes are glazing over so I'm gonna make this quick, but I love all of you and felt it needed to be said. Probably because I'm punchy and running on caffeine. Even so. Love you! <3

It was at the end of a very long day at NCIS when Gibbs heard the question he could tell Ziva had been waiting to ask for the past half hour. "Would anyone be interested in getting a couple of drinks?"

DiNozzo subtly flinched and McGee's eyes lit up ever so slightly. Gibbs inwardly sighed, remembering the last time the team went out for drinks, Tony showing up at his door in a state he wouldn't wish on anyone. Clearly, if both of them said yes he'd have to go along for the ride.

"Sounds great," McGee said, already reaching for his coat.

"Yeah...great," DiNozzo said with false cheer. "Remember the last time you went out for a couple, Tim?"

McGee rolled his eyes up in thought. "Yeah. It was last week, I had a beer with Abby while we were talking about the newest model of--"

"I meant with us," DiNozzo cut in.

"Uh...no," McGee said. "Not particularly, after the third shot."

DiNozzo sighed and leaned back in his chair. "Tim, you're a lightweight who really shouldn't have three shots in an hour, even if you space them out every twenty minutes. If you keep that sort of drinking up, it'll just end with you blacking out again."

McGee laughed. "Relax, Tony. I know how to pace myself when I drink, and I'm not going to be an alcoholic just because I didn't stop to take some water _once_."

DiNozzo had a face on that clearly said _that's what they all say_. "So you coming with us or not?" McGee asked instead of responding to the look.

With a world-weary sigh, DiNozzo hung his head. "All right. Fine. I'll come, if only to make sure you don't kill yourself from alcohol poisoning," he muttered darkly.

"I'll drive," Gibbs said to no one in particular.

All three of his agents looked over to him in various stages of shock and confusion. "You'll...you're serious, boss?" McGee asked.

Gibbs turned to look at him with a semi-neutral, slightly-irritated stare. "Did I stutter, McGee? One of you has to be sober otherwise, and we all know how well that usually works out for everyone involved."

McGee shut up but was clearly uncomfortable at the thought of Gibbs hanging around. Well, good, maybe then he'd avoid drinking as much to avoid causing a scene if he got mad at Gibbs again.

...He knew that was wishful thinking, but he needed to stay positive.

Everyone got ready to go. McGee backed up his computers, Ziva packed up her knives, and DiNozzo set up his desk so that it looked like they were busier than they actually were to anyone who might be looking over their shoulders tomorrow morning. Gibbs kept his eyes out for signs of distress among his team; making sure he remembered their ticks and other things that proved to be important in the past.

Ziva was calm, albeit a little surprised Gibbs was joining them, her movements not robotic and jerky, but not completely seamless either. She would halt subtly once or twice when reaching for certain weapons, and Gibbs resolved to make sure her trigger finger didn't get itchy.

McGee was...not exactly anxious, but not irritated...maybe apprehensive, at this turn of events. His shoulders had slouched and he was curling in on himself slightly, protecting himself from attack. His eyes didn't meet anyone else's, and Gibbs knew that if he wasn't on the top of the list of things McGee would complain about black-out drunk before, he certainly was now.

DiNozzo...DiNozzo looked high-strung. Period. No one else might be able to tell, but his grin was just a little too wide, a little too forced as he talked about what might happen at the bar. His movements were rapid, too fast for most to notice how taught his muscles in his arms and legs were. Gibbs sighed. Yeah, he couldn't help DiNozzo unless he got it into McGee's head that he couldn't drink until he almost passed out, and made sure that Ziva wouldn't do anything that might cause DiNozzo to drink more.

Tonight was going to be difficult, then. Ziva knew when to shut up, at least. McGee needed some practice in self-awareness from the start, but when it came to drinking, there hadn't been any improvements over the years. It was always hit or miss.

They went to the parking garage together, got in Gibbs' car, and Ziva directed Gibbs towards the bar she had in mind for tonight. It wasn't a very long drive and soon everyone was clambering out, Gibbs walking in behind the others but not so far behind that it didn't look like he was part of the group. As DiNozzo and Ziva fought over whether a table by the window or the dance floor was better for entertainment, Gibbs lightly touched McGee's forearm and quietly said, "Let's talk a minute," nodding to the bathroom when he turned around.

Frowning, but agreeing all the same, McGee followed Gibbs into the bathroom before he asked, "What's this about?"

Gibbs crossed his arms and put all his cards on the table right away. "You can't drink enough to get drunk tonight, or really any night from now on, for that matter."

McGee blinked in surprise once, twice, before the scowl set, and Gibbs knew he'd be in for an argument. "Hang on, why not? Last time I checked that was my decision, not yours, seeing as how _I'm_  not the designated driver tonight, _you_  are!"

"McGee, you _know_  DiNozzo had a point in the office tonight. Whenever you drink 'just a little more' than normal, you can't remember anything of the night before the next day, other than a pounding headache. I'm trying to look out for you," Gibbs reasoned.

"Touching. I can do that on my own," McGee shot back.

Gibbs shook his head. "You sound like an alcoholic trying to convince someone that you don't have a drinking problem because you can 'handle yourself'."

"I'm _not_  an alcoholic!" McGee snapped. "And if you think I am, boss, then maybe you should see if your investigative skills haven't gone down some!"

Ouch. Gibbs scowled at the below-the-belt shot, but knew that this was better than arguing with McGee when he was drunk. He pointed a single finger at McGee. "You should watch your attitude."

"You're not my dad," McGee scoffed.

"No, I'm just someone who doesn't want you to be on the receiving end of a bar brawl," Gibbs growled. "When I talked to DiNozzo--"

McGee started laughing, and Gibbs stopped, knowing that whatever had caused this reaction meant McGee was not going to be listening to him until he cooled down some. "So that's what this is about, huh? It's about Tony? It always is, nowadays. I never took you as one to play favorites, boss, but I guess I'm being put through trial on all sides tonight, huh. Because _some people_  can't keep their mouths _shut_! I lost _one_  bet, a bet that _he_  set me up for, might I add, and all of a sudden I'm the bad guy because I didn't think _once_! This is _too_  good," he shook his head. "Let me say this again: _I am not an alcoholic_!"

"No, but DiNozzo's father is!" Gibbs snapped.

McGee, whose face had gone slightly red in his anger at the situation he saw himself in, completely drained of any color. His mouth opened, but no words came out, and he did a cross between a squint and his usual blinking reaction when he was surprised. "I--"

Gibbs cut him off before he could continue. "Yeah, this is about Tony, because he came to me the last time you three went out for drinks. He was soaking wet, muddy, shaking, and a crying mess to top it all off. Not only because of the things you said about me, though that played into it, but because apparently, when you get drunk and bitter and start shouting, you bear a striking resemblance to the man who tortured Tony through a majority of his first childhood. He may not have been regularly beaten like you were, but that doesn't mean he wasn't a target for things being thrown at him, or hit too hard during a 'spanking' when he didn't deserve one to begin with, or even just being yelled at and emotionally manipulated and abused!" Gibbs' breath was practically heaving in his chest, but he forced himself to take measured breaths to ensure he didn't throttle anyone recalling what Tony had told him and what Gibbs had figured out over the years. "There's more than one way to abuse a child, McGee, and you don't get to play a victim card here! Not in this situation! Because we've all been through crap, and we all handle it different ways. But drinking?" Gibbs voice went soft as he sighed, "That's not a proper way to cope for anybody, and I don't want you heading down that path."

McGee had considerably deflated at this point, and he was looking between the bathroom floor and the door to the restaurant, where DiNozzo and Ziva were undoubtedly still arguing over a table. "I...I didn't know," he said softly. "He said his old man drank, but he said he was mostly left alone, and I just assumed that meant that his dad drank in private in the house when Tony was doing other things..."

"Well, his father did frequently leave him to his own devices, to the point of neglect, so in a sense he was left alone," Gibbs said wryly.

McGee turned a shade greener and Gibbs steered the conversation away from that topic. "Look, he doesn't hide it anymore like he used to, but he doesn't proclaim it either. So if you could not make a big deal out of this to him and just...don't drink until you're anything more than buzzed?"

"Yeah...yeah, okay," McGee said, nodding. "That's the least I can do, yeah."

Gibbs nodded approvingly. "Good. _Now_  you can go out and decide what you might want to start with, preferably something that leaves your judgement intact for most, if not all, of the night so the only thing I have to worry about is making sure none of you try to get my keys."

McGee allowed himself a chuckle and walked out of the bathroom, Gibbs following behind. Looking around the restaurant, Ziva won the argument and they had a table by the dance floor, though DiNozzo was nursing a small soda Gibbs remembered he favored rather than sulking, so at least Gibbs would only be dealing with teasing tonight. He hated it when everyone started to whine.

When Gibbs went to the bar to order a drink, McGee sat down next to DiNozzo and Gibbs knew there was an apology between the two when DiNozzo wrapped an arm around McGee and gave him a squeeze. "Two beers," he said. "One for the brunet guy at my table and one for the guy who promised to take it easy tonight."

"You got it," the bartender said with a hint of a grin. "Good to see Tim actually trying to do something about his poor impulse control."

Gibbs laughed. "Don't tell him I told you."

"Wouldn't dream of it," the bartender assured. "Just make sure he keeps his word tonight."

Gibbs nodded.

"Don't suppose a round on me to show I'm proud of him would be a good idea?" the bartender said, passing the drinks over.

Gibbs laughed. "Probably not. But the sentiment is appreciated."

"Who was that, boss? You know him?" Tony asked, when Gibbs returned and passed one of the beers to McGee and one to DiNozzo.

"No, but he apparently knows McGee here," Gibbs said, just a hint of teasing in his voice.

McGee, predictably, turned a shade darker but took it in stride. "They have good beer, you think I'm not gonna come here often?"

"Often enough you're on first-name basis with the bartender?" Gibbs asked, arching an eyebrow.

Ziva's drink came and McGee took a sip of his. "You're not gonna make this easy for me, are you, boss?" he muttered.

"Best way to learn is to jump in head first," Gibbs said benignly. "No shots tonight. I will not have you throwing up in my car."

"I wasn't even gonna take any," McGee muttered.

Gibbs decided he had teased enough from McGee for now and turned his attention to DiNozzo. "So, DiNozzo. See anyone who's gonna make you ask for the car keys yet?"

DiNozzo spluttered out a confused, "Boss?!" as McGee and Ziva fell over themselves laughing.

Gibbs grinned. "Relax, I'm joking. I know you need some more time than thirty seconds to make a judgement like that."

DiNozzo took a sip of his drink and laughed. "Yeah, you estimate what, five minutes? I actually do like getting to know a girl a bit, play the field as I may."

"Oh, I am familiar with your tactics," Ziva said, jumping on the bandwagon. "I have seen you donkey around in the office."

"Horse," DiNozzo and McGee corrected at the same time.

The banter flowed from there, everyone taking their drinks slow for once. Gibbs watched over with approval and decided that tonight he wasn't going to regret being designated driver. Not if everyone was just buzzed enough to be laughing and chatting like they were now. No, the friendly atmosphere, the joking around and smiling, and the overall spirit of the team had significantly lifted up to the point where everyone could have a good time tonight. He could definitely get used to this.


End file.
